


When Time Is Kind

by starslopes



Category: All New X-Men (Comics), X-Men (Comicverse), X-Men (Movieverse), X-Men - All Media Types, X-Men Red, X-Men Red (Comics)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Half Of This Fic Takes Place In Bed, Let The X-Men Be Happy, No major character deaths, Ororo Tops, Please Bamf Responsibly, The X-Men Love Baseball, Well She Doesn't Actually Top Here But She Tops In Their Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-22
Updated: 2018-06-22
Packaged: 2019-05-26 20:05:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15008405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starslopes/pseuds/starslopes
Summary: On a calm Saturday afternoon, mutants at the Xavier School enjoy a brief respite from the chaos they’ve come to expect. Two teachers find some long-awaited alone time.Pure fluff. And some ridiculous flirting. There is baseball, as well.#please bamf responsibly





	When Time Is Kind

**Author's Note:**

> Listen, I think Kurt would bring out Storm’s mischievous side.
> 
> I had the thought to set this during the X-Men Red run (specifically around issue 4 or 5) so there is a brief mention of the "sentinites" and Trinary, who are unique to that run. No spoilers, and you can understand it from context. This fic could fit into the movie-verse, as well.
> 
> I do reference characters coming back to life. (See: Amazing X-Men and Phoenix Resurrection.)
> 
> Small appearances from Jean Grey and Hank McCoy. And a brief cameo from Idie Okonkwo.

It is Saturday afternoon at the Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters.

Students lounge in the living room on paisley-patterned couches, gossip freely in the halls, and play sports on the wide lawn of the school grounds. 

Teachers are out of their morning classes, faced with a rare opportunity to relax until the evening lessons. Some take to hero patrol and danger room training. Others revise lesson plans, or return to their rooms for a well-deserved rest. Two in particular have chosen to retreat inside for a moment alone.

///

As the wind stirs, a comforting white-noise hush descends on the school grounds, and the cozy dimness of Kurt Wagner’s room. Branches on trees rustle outside in the garden. Footsteps pass in the halls every now and then.

There is a blue hue to the shadows in the small room, an overcast light muted by the drawn window blinds. Words are murmured softly, punctuated with hushed laughter; telltale signs of two people trying to keep their voices down.

Though the space is decorated sparsely, it is warm with a lived-in familiarity. The few shelves mounted to the wall are stacked with books, worn from frequent reading — mostly in German; some philosophy, some religion.

His writing desk is cluttered with open lesson plans, illegible handwriting scribbled in the margins. Notes in a perfect cursive hand correct a few bullets here and there.

The small table in the corner is lined with a neat row of half-burnt votive candles. The smoky sweetness of incense lingers in the room. A quartz-beaded rosary is carefully set on the bedside table; the angled edges of the beads rubbed smooth by nervous hands.

Two sets of clothes are strewn about the floor, where they were tossed haphazardly an hour before.

Ororo Munroe lets out a content sigh as Kurt crawls up from under the covers, trailing soft kisses up her stomach. When he grins against her skin, she shivers lightly. Kurt laughs, showing a flash of bright, sharp teeth.

Ororo smirks. “What?” She untangles her fingers from the bedsheets and reaches out to tuck a blue wave of hair behind his pointed ear.

He leans into her touch. “Mm, it’s nothing,” he murmurs, looking up slowly and fixing her with a golden stare. “I love seeing you like this, _meine Liebe_.”

She laughs and he admires her dimples.

“Like this?” she asks. “You mean, naked in your bed?”

“ _Nein,_ ” he says, his gaze dropping down to trail across her warm brown skin and the curve of her waist. He quickly darts his eyes away and a nice purple blush colors his cheeks. “I mean, _ja,_ that,” he says with another flash of teeth. “But like this…” Crawling forward, he dips his head to nuzzle the side of her face. “Content and… unworried.” He pulls back enough to study her expression. “And… happy, I hope.”

His face is so close to hers, she can see the blue color in his eyelashes, see the healed ridges of his scars. Ororo feels a sudden ache, a sudden pull of emotion, a kind of weight settle in her chest, heavy but not wholly unpleasant.

The wind outside quells, leaving the gardens hushed in a quiet hazy light.

And in the stillness, all she can feel is the gentle press of his chest against hers, his arms on either side of her, the warmth radiating from him.

A light touch slides up the side of her thigh - the spade tip of his tail, she realizes, an absentminded moment of anxious energy from Kurt.

His face searches hers, an open honesty written across his features.

Ororo’s lips part, and she leans up to kiss him long and slow. There is a moment of hesitation from Kurt before he responds slowly, tilting his head and pressing her down into the pillows. He brings a large hand up to cradle her head, ruffling her soft, snowy hair. 

She feels his tail curl gently around her ankle, and it sends a shiver up her body. Smiling against his lips, she breaks the kiss to let out a laugh, at the circumstance of things, at how things fell into place like this. In this small cozy room, light streaming through the half-closed shutters, with her blue love, and sweet-smelling candles on the nightstand. She listens to the wind rustle through the gardens outside.

Kurt rests his forehead against hers. He must sense it too, something special in the calm of this moment.

“I’ve always known I have a home in the sky,” she begins softly. When he pulls back and his brow furrows curiously, she swallows, but after a moment continues.

She spreads her fingers and gestures at the room around her. He watches her with eyes warm like honey.

“When the Professor found me, when I came here, this school and our friends… This became my home, too.” A slow smile spreads across Ororo’s face, crinkling her eyes, dimpling her cheeks. Kurt inclines his head gradually toward her, and his breath catches when she places a finger to his lips.

“But you’re something different, Kurt,” Ororo murmurs, closing her eyes for a moment. “I used to think the sky and school were enough for me.” She opens her eyes to see him silhouetted by the gentle afternoon sun. “But then I met you.”

“ _Meine Liebe_...” he says, and she feels him press his lips against her fingertips.

Kurt shifts above her and leans down, his dark hair falling in his face with the movement. Ororo moves her hand from his lips, gently caressing his face and brushing his hair back from his eyes. She loves many of his features, but his glowing eyes, bright against the shadows of his face, always catch her breath.

As if reading her mind, Kurt blinks slowly, his eyes wandering up from her lips, and he gives her a smirk. She returns the smug look, raising an eyebrow as if in challenge.

“Come here, elf,” Ororo says, scratching the back of his head with her nails, and pulling him down to her. Kurt laughs lightly, letting her drag him into another kiss. He moves an arm beneath her, wrapping around her waist and tugging her closer to him.

She shifts her leg, trailing her toes along the side of his calf. When she hooks her foot around the back of his thigh, he can’t quite suppress a groan, rocking his hips forward unconsciously. The sweet friction of his peach-fuzz skin against hers has her smirking against his mouth.

Ororo runs her fingers up his side, tracing lean muscles under softly raised scars, delighting in how he shivers under her touch.

He pulls away from her mouth to trail kisses along her jawline, and she leans into his affections, his soft lips pressed against her skin. Her breath catches at the occasional sharp graze of teeth.

He lets out a little growl against the side of her neck. “Ororo...” He practically purrs her name.

Ororo has been called many things. By those she hated, by those she loved. Child. Thief. Goddess. Witch. Teacher. Hero. Mutant.

But her favorite sound is the reverent tone on her lover’s lips when he says her name.

She feels her pulse quicken, feels the clouds churning. A gust of wind sends leaves tapping against the window. She shuts her eyes tight, just to focus on his breathing. Just to cherish this moment. When he shifts to look at her, she turns her face to his, pressing her lips to the corner of his mouth. Kurt draws a soft intake of breath, sighing at her touch.

She hums against his skin, tracing with her lips along the curve of his cheekbones, to the sharp slant of his pointed ear. He all but gasps when she bites tenderly at a spot below his ear.

“ _Mein Gott, Liebchen,_ ” he groans, burying his face in the crook of her shoulder. The nicest shade of lilac has flushed across his cheeks. One of her favorite colors.

Ororo runs her hands from his neck down his back, feeling his body run hot beneath his scarred skin. He offers murmurs of approval against her cheek, nuzzling into her soft white hair, fanned out around her face. Her hands trail down to his lower back and the base of his tail. And if he wasn’t so distracted, he wouldn't be surprised at the sensation when she wraps her fingers around the width of his tail, and gives a sharp tug.

Kurt gasps into her shoulder, and they teleport in a puff of smoke — collapsing suddenly on the floor beside the bed.

“Ororo!”

She can't focus on his bewildered face, she's laughing too hard. The sheets are pulled from the bed, tangled around them, Kurt resting heavily on top of her as brimstone smoke swirls and dissipates around them. She rubs the back of her head where it conked against the floor. “Ouch! Ha! Oh - but that was too perfect!” she gasps between the laughter.

Kurt stares down at her incredulously, trying to suppress the smile that quirks onto his lips. His silent reprimanding doesn't last long before he's laughing along with her, grinning widely with his bright, sharp teeth. “ _Was machst du_ … You -” he manages between laughs - “why do you so _love_ to do that?”

“I - I can’t help it, love!” She grins up at him, and wipes a tear from her eye. Kurt smirks at the pet name, but gives her a chastising swat on the arm with his tail.

The weather witch smiles indulgently. “And you do have such a nice tail,” she says, catching his tail and twirling the end around her fingers. His golden eyes follow the motion, and he brings his gaze to her face with a soft, dreamy look.

The faint smell of smoke and sulfur lingers in the air, mixing with notes of vanilla from the votive candles.

He watches as she brings her fingers to her lips, places a soft kiss against the edge of his spade-tip tail. His breath hitches in a way that spreads a warmth through her, and his lips form the vowels of her name.

The wind outside picks up again as she leans up to capture his mouth in a languid kiss. His tail twitches between her fingers, and he grins deeper into the kiss. When she breaks away, he lets out a huff and pouts at her.

Ororo puts her hands on his chest, and pushes lightly at him. “Okay - you’re heavy.”

“Mmm, _ja,_ but I’m _comfy,_ ” he purrs, stretching out on top of her like a lazy cat. Ororo has always been taller than him, but when he purposefully weighs himself down on her like this, she’s reminded that he is quite heavy for his size. All lean muscle from his acrobatics and mutant training, but he moves around like he weighs nothing. Ororo often marvels at his flexibility.

But now she rolls her eyes and laughs, swatting at his shoulders. “Kurt! Goddess, you are a _weight_.”

He looks down at her smugly. “Consider it punishment.”

“Hmm. Not really the kind of punishment I like…” she murmurs quietly, trailing her fingers along his collarbone.

Kurt shakes his head, but she can tell he’s struggling to keep a straight face.

“What if we had landed in the living room? Hm?” He smirks down at her, tracing designs down her arm with the tip of his tail. “Bamf! Startled stares from half a dozen very curious students.”

“Mm, a learning experience.” Ororo’s smirk breaks into a grin at the mock-horror on Kurt’s face.

He pokes her in the side, and she spasms on reflex. “Ha! Ororo!” Kurt scolds, shifting his weight off of her to run his hands down her sides.

“Kidding! I was kidding!” Ororo gasps between laughter.

“Or the _professor’s office??_ ” he laugh-whispers, partially to be dramatic, partially a little wary that Charles would actually hear them. (Which, he still might. The telekinesis and all.)

“Oh, Goddess, Kurt!” With a scandalized gasp, she claps both hands over his mouth. “Don’t bring up the _Professor_ while we’re _tangled up in bedsheets!_ ”

She feels his sharp, toothy grin against her palms.

A smirk plays on her lips and Ororo tries to fight it, but she finds it so hard to resist the teasing gleam in his eyes. “Incorrigible elf,” she murmurs, gently pinching his cheeks, to which he smiles even wider.

Ororo pushes him off, and he tumbles dramatically to the side, pulling most of the blankets with him. She rises to a sitting position and smirks down at him. “Come on, Kurt. We have responsibilities.” Reaching a hand down to push his hair back from his face, she teases, “Maybe we’ll even have a new mission. A new, swashbuckling, near-death experience. You love those.”

“Mm, I love harrowing adventures as much as any X-men, but…” Kurt pouts.

He slings an arm across her lap and grins up at her from the floor. “Nothing could be more satisfying than lying here with you,” he says. “But maybe if you break out your headmistress voice again…”

Despite herself, Ororo feels her face heat up. Kurt hums to himself, almost a purr, and bites his lip in a sly smile. His long hair falls back in his face, illuminated in different shades of blue from the overcast window light. He gazes up at her with gold eyes and a mischievous smirk, and he just looks so _good_.

“My headmistress voice, hm? You want me to order you around?”

“You know I love it when you take control...”

She leans over him and returns the grin, her hair falling smoothly from her shoulders. Lost in the blue glimmer of her dark eyes, Kurt lifts a hand to brush her snowy hair behind her ear— stilling his fingers when he hears a gentle rap on the door.

For a moment, they both tense up, like they’re secretive young teachers again, trying to keep one aspect of their life private. The two mutants stare at each other, holding their breath, before they both break into laughter.

Ororo gives an incredulous grin, letting her shoulders relax and slumping down on top of Kurt on the floor. “Never any peace, hmm?” she murmurs as the knocking comes again.

“Ah— er, one minute!” Kurt calls to the door. 

“Never fails to make me feel like a giddy teenager again,” she laughs, and smothers her giggles, pressed against his chest.

“ _Alte Gewohnheiten_ , you know…” Kurt chuckles. He rises to a sitting position, and Ororo untangles herself from him, giving him more room to bamf.

She gathers the blankets around herself as he teleports to the other end of the room, searching for his clothes where they were discarded earlier. He tugs on a pair of pants, and Ororo watches with an appreciative gaze as he pulls on a comfy shirt, hemmed just short enough to show a strip of his blue skin.

He catches her staring and winks. “Old habits, _ja?_ ” 

Smoke lingers in the room again as he teleports to the door, opening it just enough to lean against the frame. “Ah, Fräulein Grey! A pleasant surprise! Sorry for the wait,” he says, proffering his brightest grin.

“Hey, Kurt,” Jean smiles warmly, a gleam in her eye like she’s trying to keep from laughing. “I hope your afternoon’s been lovely…” Her eyes drift up pointedly to his tousled hair.

“Aha— yes, it’s been very, um,” he fumbles a bit, running a hand through his unruly bedhead.

Jean crosses her arms over her chest, pursing her lips in a knowing smile. “Weather’s been quite windy today, hm?”

Kurt blushes a fine lavender from his cheeks to the tip of his ears. Telepaths. They’re shameless.

Ororo pokes her head in past the door, resting her chin on Kurt’s shoulder. “Hello, Jean.” She’s managed to fully dress again and, in typical goddess fashion, she looks as impeccable as ever. “Were you looking for me?”

“In fact, I was.” Jean giggles, and she and Ororo share a grin. “The students are wondering if the forecast will calm down in time for a game of baseball, what do you think?” she asks, arching one ginger eyebrow.

Kurt lets out an embarrassed laugh and resists the urge to cover his face with his hand. Instead, he lets his hand find Ororo’s beside him, intertwining his fingers with hers. 

“I think I can bestow us with a calm sunny day,” Ororo murmurs, sharing a smile with her friend. She straightens her shoulders, and adopts her diplomatic voice. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you anyway,” she says. “Are we returning to Namor’s hideout soon? I’d like to reconvene with Trinary about her progress on the sentinites.”

“I had the same thought,” Kurt agrees. Just like that, they’re back to X-Men business. Never far from it. “But we have to find a better word than ‘hideout,’ _Liebchen_ ,” Kurt says, smirking and shaking his head.

“Hmm, perhaps.” Ororo puts a finger to her chin. “But I’m afraid ‘Namor’s lair’ isn’t much better.” 

Jean stifles a laugh. “To your point, yes, we’ll leave tonight. I’m off to see that the X-Jet is prepped.”

“Hoping Quentin hasn’t taken it on another joy ride,” Ororo adds, and laughs when Jean rolls her eyes at the thought.

“Exactly. Being back from the dead isn’t really glamorous.” She smiles ruefully. 

Kurt offers his friend a sympathetic look. “It is certainly not as… ah…” He hesitates, taking a moment to struggle for the words. “Perhaps not as _amazing_ as one would expect,” he murmurs.

Ororo stirs next to him, and gives his hand a gentle squeeze. “Perhaps it is selfish,” she begins, glancing down at first, before raising her eyes to look at both of them, “But I am glad to have you here with me.”

Jean smiles. “I have missed you, friends.” Her eyes are warm, but there’s a weariness there. Telepathically, Kurt and Ororo hear her continue: _‘I’m happy to see you steal as many moments as you can.’_

Jean pauses, hearing something from afar. “Well, that’s my cue,” she says. “Come meet us down on the field if you want to referee.”

The faint sound of footsteps and students’ laughter floats upstairs, the school returning to life after a lazy weekend afternoon. With one last weary smile, Jean turns and retreats back down the hall.

The sound of her gait disappears into the distant commotion and muddled voices of the school. Ororo stares absently down the empty hallway.

“I’m worried about her.”

“Careful, _Liebchen_ … think that too loudly and she’ll hear you,” Kurt says softly, a twist of pain in his light tone. He looks down at their intertwined hands, brushing his touch gently over her knuckles, and the rings adorning her fingers. “We’ll look out for her.”

Ororo returns the gesture, and reaches for his other hand with hers. After a pause, she takes a breath and lets out a wistful sigh. “I suppose this means we have to move now.”

Kurt nods but doesn’t say anything. Reluctant to break this moment, this space in time they have carved out with each other. He fidgets with his hands in hers, and she presses her calming touch against his wrists. His pulse slow, content. When he looks back to her, he finds she is already watching him, with a soft gaze that melts his heart. And it is as if they are both trying to cherish this instant, this single second of calm in their vast and strange, uncanny lives.

The smell of vanilla and smoke that lingers in Kurt’s bedroom, the room that they share, occasionally, when time is kind. The cool sturdiness of the floorboards under their bare feet. Lines of sunlight streaking across the floor and into the hallway, the sunny day outside lighting up their blue room. 

The floorboards shudder slightly beneath them, with a distant explosion that is not uncommon at the Xavier School, the noisy din of students testing their powers in the distance.

Ororo is the first to break, stifling a laugh with a little snort. “There it is,” she says, tilting her head at another ungraceful crash heard from outside, followed by the shouts and laughter of school children. Shaken from her reverie, she looks down to slip on the shoes she left discarded by the door earlier.

She lets go of one hand, but holds tight to his other, and steps to the other side of the doorway. 

“Wait,” he says, pulling her back a bit.

He chuckles. “The back of your shirt is untucked.” He reaches his free hand around to tuck it in for her, resting his touch on the small of her back. “Like a duck’s tail...” he murmurs, smiling at the thought.

Ororo places her other hand on his chest, a slight furrow to her brow at his indistinct murmuring.

It’s like they are constantly drawn back to this spot, this in-between moment before parting again. 

Kurt tilts his head to the side, and his gaze drifts to her lips. “ _Noch eine, Liebe?_ ” His beguiling expression turns to a roguish grin when she closes her eyes, raising her eyebrows expectantly.

He kisses her softly once more, slow and sweet, and Ororo hums contentedly. She leans into the kiss and smooths her hands down his chest, an innocent gesture, before sliding her fingers under the cropped hem of his shirt. 

Her hands press flat against the taut muscles of his stomach, and if she weren’t so distracted by sweet kisses from her blue love, and the feel of his velvet skin under her fingers, she’d notice Kurt’s tail swishing happily behind him.

A sudden, muffled cough reminds the two of their position: faculty members at the Xavier school, preoccupied with each other’s mouths, in the doorway of Kurt’s room, with the open hallway _right there_. They startle apart, and Ororo swivels around to catch sight of Hank McCoy awkwardly shuffling down the hallway — books in his arms and a folder held up against the side of his face, to avoid eye contact.

“Afternoon, Ororo, Kurt,” Hank says with a nod, peering at them from over the folder as he lumbers past them.

Kurt pulls on a sheepish smile. “ _Guten Nachmittag,_ Henry,” he says brightly, with a genial wave.

Ororo removes her hands from Kurt (much to his dismay) and watches her other blue friend carefully. “Henry,” she greets him tersely, hands on her hips.

Hank waits until he’s near the end of the hallway before commenting with a chuckle, “I’d say get a room but, you know, you’re standing right in front of it…”

Ororo rolls her eyes. “Don’t you have a class to teach, Dr. McCoy?” she calls after him.

“Don’t _you_ , Ms. Munroe?” They can hear his hearty laughter echo down the hallway.

Kurt glances at the weather witch warily. Her sharp stare follows Hank as he disappears around the corner, and she hesitates, concentration creasing her forehead.

“Ororo… don’t…” Kurt begins, but his reproachful words are undermined by the slow smile creeping onto his features. There was no stopping her, anyway. 

She throws him a wink before her eyes cloud over, and electric sparks dance along her fingertips. Kurt takes a step back, raising his hands in mock-surrender. Her long hair stirs in a sudden breeze, whipping back from her shoulders and nearly smacking Kurt in the face, and with a wide sweep of her arm, Storm sends a gust of wind barreling down the hallway, chasing after an unfortunate blue scientist.

The wind dies down, and a beat passes as the two wait and listen.

They hear a distant “AGH!” followed by a succession of thumps, as if someone rolled a bowling ball down a long staircase, until eventually, painful silence, punctuated by the fluttering of papers and a long-suffering groan.

Ororo stares down the hallway and after a moment, props a hand on her hip and turns to Kurt. “I actually do have a class.”

He reacts just as she hoped he would — by immediately bursting into laughter. 

“You said that with the straightest face!” he laughs. He shuts eyes tight and covers his face with his hands, trying in vain to calm the uncontrollable laughter bubbling out of him.

Wiping a tear from his eye, he looks over to see her grinning at him, her eyes dancing with amusement.

She reaches for his hand and gives it a gentle squeeze before letting go. “This was fun, love.” 

Kurt chuckles softly, watching Ororo smooth out her hair and part it neatly behind her back. She turns in a slow circle in the hallway. “What do you think?” she asks. “Do I look appropriate enough to teach a rambunctious band of sixteen-year-olds?”

“You always look professional, _Liebchen_.” He closes the door behind him and walks around her in the hallway. He notices her shirt tail is still sticking out in the back.

“Well, thank you.”

“When you’re fully dressed, of course.”

“Kurt.”

“ _Ich liebe dich,_ ” he smiles, and it turns into a playful grin. “Ah, one more thing,” he says, tugging out the back of her shirt as he skips ahead of her.

“Kurt...” she laughs, moving to straighten her blouse.

“ _Bis später, kleiner Entenschwanz,_ ” he says, dancing to a stop in front of her. He leans up to kiss her cheek. “Little duck’s tail.” The last thing she catches is Kurt’s fond smile before he teleports in a familiar puff of brimstone smoke.

When the cloud dissipates, she registers vaguely that her clothes will smell like him; even the inattentive x-men will guess where she’s been all afternoon.

Ororo tucks in the back of her blouse, and straightens her cuffs as she walks back through the mansion. 

Sunlight streams from high windows in the bright stairwell. A few older mutants, backpacks in hand, rush past her on their way to late afternoon classes. They chat excitedly about danger room training, and offer Ororo a “hello, professor” as they pass. 

The stairs are littered with a few stranded sheets of paper. With an abashed frown, Ororo pauses to collect them, making a mental note to return them to Henry later.

A sudden shadow dims the mansion foyer, and Ororo turns to see Bobby Drake passing by the tall windows, surfing on a bridge of fast-building ice. He spots her from outside and shouts, “Hey, Storm! Baseball on the south lawn!”

She holds up a hand in greeting and he returns with an enthusiastic wave, before surfing out of sight. A minor stampede of younger students chase after his ice bridge as it melts.

The commotion outside grows louder when she reaches her classroom, and Ororo finds the south-facing windows of the room open up onto the makeshift baseball field.

The majority of the ruckus appears to be caused by a pair of the most tenured professors at the Xavier school. Logan and Scott are arguing at the pitcher’s mound, while Jean calls to them from one of the bases. A group of the younger mutants sit on the sidelines, picking dandelions in the grass and laughing with each other.

Ororo catches sight of Kurt crouching over home plate, his tail drawing symbols absentmindedly in the red clay dirt. Somehow he’s found a baseball mitt already, and he laughs with Jubilee as she tosses him a catcher’s mask.

As much as they pretend to escape the chaos of their mutant life, their X-Men life, to pretend that a quiet moment alone is better and more precious, the school always brings them back. Their friends, their found family.

“Professor Munroe, am I early?”

The voice shakes her from her reverie, and Ororo looks up to see Idie Okonkwo in the doorway. “No, Idie,” she says, giving the girl a smile, “But I think some of your classmates are ditching classes.”

Idie shifts her bookbag in hand and comes to join her at the window. She peers out at the lawn. “Oh, Quentin was talking about the game. X-Men really love baseball, don’t they?”

Ororo chuckles. “Let’s join them, shall we?”

Idie gives her teacher a surprised look. “But… what about class?”

“I find value in being spontaneous, from time to time.” 

She leans forward and throws open the window.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first finished fanfic! I hope you've enjoyed.
> 
> Kurt and Ororo are so fun to me, and they fit so well in a way that is unexpected, but also makes them feel more dimensional as characters. I hope I've done them justice.
> 
> I was also compelled to write a bit of Jean Grey's emotional arc into this. She is also one of my favorite mutants, and her role in X-Men Red has been really inspiring to me. (And I'm sure it takes a toll on her mental health. She's so fascinating.)
> 
> And finally... X-Men Red's base of operations is not called Namor's Secret Hideaway... They named it SEArebro, and I think that's absolutely hilarious.


End file.
